


The Doors of Remembrance

by flightinflame, the_genderman



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable Hank McCoy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, M/M, Portals, Science Experiments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Hank is working in the lab late one night when someone arrives. He says his name is "Sergent James Buchanan Barnes," and he's from 2018. Which is odd, because for Hank, it is 1968.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Hank McCoy, James "Bucky" Barnes/Hank McCoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020





	The Doors of Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the amazing the_genderman

Hank was working late in his lab. He frowned, looking through the measurements that were flashing up on the screen, distracted by them. Something was happening - he'd had strange readings before, but not like this. Whatever it was, this was big.

He knew he should have been checking on the students at the fledgling school, ensuring that they were alright and that they had had a good day. Normally he was careful to look in on them, knowing that for the mutants who didn't look normal, his presence helped. But he'd been getting some strange readings on his equipment for the past few hours, and he decided that was going to have to take priority for now. He knew that Charles would be alright getting the students to bed if he was busy. He checked his results again - there was definitely something off, and it was setting alarm bells ringing. He began to check his equipment, wondering whether they had somehow managed to realign themselves over the course of the day.

But no matter how he adjusted it, he kept getting the same results. But a surge of this level - it was like no mutant he'd found before. 

Putting aside trying to work out why it was doing whatever-it-was, he tried instead to work out where the anomaly was happening. When he found the answer, he almost choked, checking the machines again and again.

The readout kept telling him the same thing - the anomaly was in Cerebro.

Hank knew some people thought he was a coward. He wasn't - he didn't like conflict, but that wasn't the same as being cowardly. He had protocols in place to seal down the basement of the mansion, to make sure no one could get in or out. 

There were adults that he could have called, but he knew that it was better they protected the children. So he initiated the security procedure, reaching out to Charles's mind. _I'm getting some strange results. I'll let you know what's happening when I know._

That said, he made his way along the corridor to Cerebro. The door opened for him, and at first glance, he thought the space was empty - there was no one on the platform. But as he stepped back, telling himself the machine must have been broken, he heard a soft groan.

He approached the platform, allowing his body to change, the drugs that kept him human fading as blue fur covered him. He gazed down, at the bottom of Cerebro's sphere. There was a man there in something approaching military uniform, with dark hair, and one arm black metal streaked with gold. 

The man lying down there groaned again, and then gazed up at him.

"How the fuck are you blue?" He asked, lifting his hands to show he was defenceless. 

Hank didn't know what was going on, but he was sure about one thing - this wasn't a false reading.

He thought about calling for Charles, but after a moment he decided that wasn't going to help - Charles was better off upstairs with the children, while he investigated this. There was a gun on the floor by the man's feet, but he was making no attempt to grab for it. He was just there with his hands up, looking at Hank as though he'd not expected mutants.

Hank knew he could reach the bottom of the sphere safely in a single bound - it was something he'd done before when he was performing maintenance. The man looked dazed, or just confused. But that wouldn't last for long. Hank jumped for the gun, snatching it up and throwing it onto the platform above, then staying in a low crouch, up slightly from where the man was lying.

The man blinked. Then blinked again. Then groaned once more, twisting a little on the ground before pushing himself up a little. Hank looked him over, searching for any other weapons, but aside from the prosthetic he appeared unarmed. That was good. Hank felt fairly confident he was going to be able to defend himself, if it came to it. Hank didn't like fighting, but if he had to fight he could do it.

The newcomer didn't seem eager to fight. Having propped himself up on mis-matched arms, he stayed still, seeming to catch his breath.

"You a space alien?" The man asked. He sounded fairly local, and that in itself seemed odd.

"You're the one who just appeared," Hank muttered, the fur on the back of his neck bristling slightly with uncertainty. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"You're the one that's furry," the man muttered, then shook his head. "I'm guessing this ain't Wakanda any more..." 

"New York." 

"New York? Oh thank fuck." The man moved to sitting. "Okay. You know the Avengers, right?"

Hank paused, frowning a little. "Is that a baseball team?"

The stranger mouthed his words back at him, a look of confusion and something almost approaching horror on his face. He shook his head. "Iron Man? Captain America? I mean, you look like you... you have super-powers, right, I saw you throw that gun."

"I'm just a mutant." Hank looked at him thoughtfully. "What... you're from New York?"

"I am." The guy nodded.

Hank took a look at him, picking out the strange details of his clothes, the technology of his arm, and asked another question. "From New York, when?"

"What do you mean when?"

"What year is it? Say you hit your head, tell me what year it is."

"2018." The man frowned. "Look, you want name rank and serial number? The hell is going on here."

"Your name wouldn't hurt," Hank answered, backing up a little, easily clambering up the curved sides of Cerebro. "But I haven't taken you prisoner. I didn't mean for you to be here."

"Sergent James Buchanan Barnes," the man answered.

"Well, hello James. My name's Hank McCoy, and I'm sorry but it behooves me to tell you that right now, it is 1968."

"Bullshit." James snarled, his eyes wide. "This is another one of your tricks, you're... you're just messing with me..." He scrambled into a standing position, and Hank hurried back up the wall, settling on the platform.

James jumped. His fingers caught the edge of the platform, and he began to pull himself up.

Hank raised an eyebrow at him as James got himself up to chest level. "A human couldn't make that jump." So James was a mutant now, and apparently had somehow travelled through time.

"Let me go." James glared as he hefted himself across onto the platform. He scrambled to his feet, having pulled himself up, and then paused, his gaze drawn to the helmet at the centre of Cerebro. His eyes widened with something approaching terror, and he snarled a little, rushing towards it.

Hank chased him, but by the time he got within reach James had already brought his metal hand down on the helmet, shattering it. He kept hitting it, again and again, and then curled up in the shattered remains. James looked up at Hank, but he didn't seem to see him - he was panting, eyes darting around frantically like a wounded animal.

Hank crouched down, and it was his turn to hold out his hands in a soothing gesture. "You're okay. You're okay, come on, let's get you cleaned up and we'll work out what's happening."

James shook his head, teeth bared. His arm whirred in motion, metal plates sliding against each other.

Hank wasn't too proud to know when he was outmatched. James was afraid, and that fear made him dangerous. _Charles?_ He called out telepathically, edging back down the platform and picking up the gun. _I need your help._ He hit the door, and typed in a code, before slipping through, leaving James inside. He felt guilty for leaving him there when he was so clearly afraid, but he knew it wasn't safe to be near him, not when he was clearly in a destructive mood.

_What is it, Hank?_ Charles asked, his mind prodding gently at Hank's own. Hank showed him - James, how he'd been at the start, how he had attacked Cerebro. _I can repair Cerebro fairly quickly, but I'm much more concerned about him._

_You think he's really from the future?_

_I don't think so. But it doesn't make much sense. The arm he's using - it's alien technology, and his clothes aren't normal. None of it is._ Hank swallowed. _Can you and Alex come down here? Maybe you can calm him down and I can give him a medical, and then we can put him somewhere safe._

_You think he's a mutant?_

Hank responded with the memory of James clambering onto the platform. _Yes. But he doesn't seem to know that. He doesn't seem to know what he is, but I think he's military._

_I'm on my way._ Charles promised.

Hank stood guard outside the door to Cerebro, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides. He felt very out of his depth. He was aware that alone in there, James might finish destroying Cerebro, ruining all of Hank's hard work. But none of that mattered, not compared to the lives of the students at the school. Hank could rebuild Cerebro if necessary - for the moment what mattered was making sure that James stayed that side of the door.

Luckily, he didn't have long to wait before Charles appeared, Alex at his side. Charles was a little breathless - not used to hurrying in a wheelchair. "Hank?"

Hank projected images of what had happened, showing him how James had appeared suddenly, how he had found him, and then how he had attacked Cerebro without provocation. Charles let him share the memories, before he nodded. "I can reach out to him. His mind... it feels human, not mutant." Charles closed his eyes, one hand resting against his temple as he tried to get a grip on the man's thoughts.

A moment later, his eyes snapped open again, and he took a deep breath. 

"Professor?" Hank asked.

"I... I can do it. His mind... it's a mess. Worse than anything I've seen before. But I can calm him down." With that, Charles closed his eyes again, and Hank could see his lips moving. After a few moments, he nodded. "Alright. I've spoken to him, and he's agreed to come out, as long as we don't try any medical exams on him."

"He said he was from 2018. I need to know-" Hank protested, but he fell silent at Charles's glare.

"Observation only, Hank. For his sake, and for mine - I already will struggle with how loudly he thinks of pain. I believe you've got a few rooms set up here for any patients. Do you think you and he could stay down here with Alex? I don't want him near the students."

Hank nodded his agreement. "There's a couple of rooms that can be remotely locked down, for any student who is having real trouble with their powers. I suppose that would probably be the best place for him."

"Thank you, Hank. Please do let me know what you discover, but don't... nothing more than observation unless he agrees, promise me."

"But-"

"You wouldn't experiment on Erik without his consent, would you?" Charles asked, and hearing him speak the name of his lost love... Hank thought of numbers marring skin, the darkness in Erik's eyes when he had spoken of killing Shaw, and shook his head.

"No."

"Then not James either." With that, Charles opened the doors.

James was standing there when he opened, his hands balled into fists, but he looked at Charles in his wheelchair and relaxed a little. "You mean it?"

"I meant what I said, Sergeant Barnes. You're a very long way from home. But we want to get you back safely."

The man nodded, his shoulders tight with tension. Hank gestured with his head. "If you'll come with me, I can show you where you can stay for now."

James nodded, following Hank wordlessly down the corridor, and Hank could tell he was looking around in awe.

"What is this place?"

Hank didn't answer at first. He wasn't sure it would be safe to - he didn't want the man to attack their students. Alex, apparently, had no such qualms.

"It's a school. For mutants. Keep us safe from humans, and humans safe from us."

"Mutants?" James frowned. "That why you're blue?"

"That's why I'm blue." Hank agreed. He didn't want to get into the technical differences between a mutant and a mutate.

"Your friend could speak in my head."

"The Professor's a telepath." Hank supplied, showing him into a room set up for a short stay by a student. James looked around and shrugged, so Hank carried on talking. "Alex will be in the room next to you, and mine is just down the corner. The door will be alarmed, but in an emergency call out and one of us will be with you immediately." He tried to make the security sound non-threatening, painfully aware of what Charles had implied about this man's background.

James understood though, sitting down on the bed. "This really the sixties?"

"It is," Hank agreed. "I know you're a long way from home. Do you want to talk about what occurred?"

"Not yet." James glanced around, his gaze fixing on the strip-lighting embedded in the ceiling. "But I'll find a way home. I always do."

"Do you often teleport through time and space?"

"No," James managed a slight smile, and Hank hoped he'd do that again, because it looked good on him. "This is a first time, far as I can remember."

"First time for everything," Hank replied, suddenly shy. "Do you want some tea? Water? Coffee?"

"Beer?"

"This place is a school."

"Coffee then." James shrugged, flopping back onto the bed and gazing at the ceiling. "And a newspaper."

"Sure thing," Hank agreed, trying to do what he could to make him comfortable. "I'll be back soon. Alex'll stay down here until I return, you need anything let him know." That was the gentlest way he could find of letting him know he would stay under observation, that he would be being watched and not left on his own.

"Thanks." James turned his back to the door, and Hank could hear him taking slow breaths, trying to calm himself. Hank slipped away, going to make a coffee, and grab the newspaper that he'd been reading - it was a couple of days out of date, but if James wanted to prove to himself which decade he was in, Hank assumed being a few days out wasn't a problem.

He knocked on James's door. "Got the coffee..."

"Come in!" James called, moving to sit up, staring straight ahead. He took the coffee, and reached for the newspaper, looking it over and mouthing obscenities to himself. Then he looked up, staring Hank in the eye. "Who do you work for?"

"I work for Charles, that's the telepath. We help young mutants, I told you-"

"Who do you really work for? SHIELD? HYDRA?"

"I don't..." Hank sighed. "I don't work for anyone other than Charles and myself. And assuming you don't pose any threat to my students, I want to get you back home."

"You do?" There was a pause, and then James nodded, his fingers clenching around the paper. "I don't want to go to where I was..at this time."

"James you wouldn't be born yet." Hank argued, although there was something in the way James said it - with far more certainty than he was expecting to hear.

James shook his head, and snorted. "James Buchanan Barnes mean anything to you?"

Hank frowned and shook his head. "Not before today."

"What about Steve Rogers?"

"I don't know the name, should I?"

James stared at him, eyes narrowing, clearly searching for any hint of a lie. He clearly found what he was looking for, because he whistled low and stood up, starting to pace the room. "I'm not just in a different time then."

"What do you mean?"

"I... I was born in 1918. Me and my best friend, we served in the Second World War. He was Captain America, turned the tide... he was the first in a series of superheroes. Not a kid born since the forties, not in America, that doesn't know his name. Our names."

"How are you still alive?" Hank asked, staring. The man in front of him looked no older than him - certainly not old enough to have lived the life James was claiming.

"Steve survived because he crashed into the ice, and he froze, and they found him decades later. They'd given him drugs to make him strong, to make the fighter he was on the inside what people saw at the outside. So he ended up in the future, fighting to save the world again. Guess I survived to keep hauling him back when he gets into fights that are bigger than he is..." James smiled sadly, and Hank knew that he'd dodged his question - he'd explained how his friend had survived, but not how he had done.

"He's lucky to have you. I'm a genius," Hank admitted, a little shy to say it. "I'll find a way of getting you home."

"Thank you," James agreed, then cleared his throat. "Look. If it's not too much to ask, could you call me Bucky? It's just... that's what my friends call me."

"It'd be an honour," Hank answered, gazing down at his hands and trying not to look too flustered. He'd worked with soldiers before. Most of them took one look at him and laughed in his face. But Bucky seemed to be kind, patient. He was out of his depth and afraid and trying to stay calm. "I can get you some food. Any allergies or anything I need to know about?"

"No." Bucky sat back down on his bed. "Look, could I have a secure box or something to go under my bed?"

"Sure, what for?" Hank knew there were various boxes available, he just needed to know the necessary size and then he could find something.

"My arm. I don't normally wear it when I'm not in combat..." He hesitated, rubbing at his shoulder. "It's... this one's really high tech, it doesn't hurt but... I'd rather not wear it."

"We'll find something," Hank promised.

"Thanks. I just have... trouble, sometimes. When I'm trying to go to sleep. And I'd hate for someone to get hurt because of me."

"That's very generous of you," Hank answered, glancing down at the ground. "We'll work out something, Bucky."

Bucky's answering smile was blinding, but it made his heart ache that Bucky seemed genuinely surprised to be treated with any kind of tenderness or care. "I'll grab you some food and that box, and let you get some rest, it's been a long day."

"Thanks," Bucky's grin was soft, lazy, and it made Hank feel warm. He hurried away to do as he had said he would, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd made a decision. He was going to find a way to get Bucky home, no matter what. To the right place, and the right time. Doing anything else would feel like a failure.

That night, he made notes of everything that he had observed, and all that was said between them, and spent hours pouring over the energy surge that had occurred when Bucky arrived. It was almost five in the morning before he turned in for bed, his mind racing with what he had found, and trying to unpick what it meant. 

The next morning, he woke up and brushed his teeth, before getting coffee and some fruit and going to knock on Bucky's door, wondering if he might have some insight into what exactly was happening.

After a moment the door swung open, and Bucky stood there grinning, his prosthetic tucked away in the box Hank had provided.

"Don't look so serious," Bucky smirked. "I'm armless."

Hank looked at him, and groaned slightly at the pun. "Terrible. Just terrible."

"Made you smile though, didn't I?" Bucky asked.

Hank ducked his head, relieved he hadn't taken his meds yet today, and therefore his blush was disguised behind his brilliant blue fur. "You did. Look, I thought we could think about what happened... you want to go home, and you should go home. I know this isn't where you want to be."

"I mean, it's got its plus points." Bucky's grin was definitely taking on a flirtatious edge, and Hank wasn't sure what to do about that. He cleared his throat, standing up straight.

"What happened? You said you only wear your arm for combat. Who were you fighting?" Hank asked. That was something he'd noticed the previous night, going through his notes - Bucky had mentioned combat. Hank knew that there were mutants who could open up portals to different places, and even mutants who could see into the future, or discover the past of an object when they touched it. He shuddered, remembering how a student had reacted when they'd bumped into the wrong thing.

It wasn't impossible that whatever had happened to Bucky, it was caused by a mutant whose powers weren't fully understood - and if so, perhaps there was a way of getting him home - either finding the same mutant here, or replicating the results.

"I was helping Steve, there was... there was a big fight. We'd been in Wakanda, but this guy... he tracked us down. Tracked me down..." His voice trailed off. "I'm worried about Steve, being there on his own. He's always been a disaster without me."

"Tracked you down?" Hank asked, awkwardly placing the tray on a table so Bucky could help himself. Bucky ate quickly, seemingly unbothered by his missing limb, and Hank tried not to stare at the empty sleeve of Bucky's shirt.

"I don't..." Bucky hesitated, his arm wrapping across his chest, rubbing at his other shoulder. "I don't like talking about it."

"Okay," Hank answered, remembering the look of pain on Charles's face, his quiet reminder to Hank that he wouldn't push Erik for information he wasn't willing to give. "That's alright. Just say what you can. I just need to try and work out what happened so that we can get you back."

Bucky nodded, staring at an orange, before reaching for an apple. Hank reached out, using his claws to peel it, trying to avoid the conversation lapsing into awkward silence between them. He offered it back to Bucky, who flashed him a grateful smile, eating a slice and then talking. "I lost my arm back in the forties. Fell out of a train protecting Steve."

"Thought you said he was the disaster."

"Hey, without me he crashed a plane!" Bucky objected, but he was smiling now, some of the tension gone from his frame. "He's more of a disaster than I am. I just fell out of a train, landed in some ice... should have died. Would have died, if I wasn't already a mess of ... a mess, honestly. Look, you're a scientist, right?"

"Yes."

"You ever been experimented on?"

"Only... only by myself." Hank answered. "I'd never do a test on someone else I wouldn't do on myself. I want to understand mutation."

"Only mutation?"

"Naturally occurring difference that marks my kind as unique... it's been a fascination ever since I was a child. I always thought I was alone, and now... I know so many mutants, and I want to understand what drives them."

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "You can take a sample of my blood. If it would help. There... They were trying to create super soldiers. Gave it to Steve and turned him from a tiny little shit who got himself into fights way bigger than he was, to a guy who looked like a hero and still got himself into fights bigger than himself. He..." Bucky snorted. "He's an idiot, but he's my idiot, and people look at him and see that strength. Plus I don't need to worry about him dying at a cold wind no more." He fidgeted where he sat, peeling off another slice of the orange. 

"But the bad guys. They had their own version of the serum, wanted to test it out, used me as a lab rat. And it kind of worked. I'm stronger now, faster. And like I said. Lived falling off the train." He reached to scratch at the back of his neck with his arm, taking a few deep breaths before he continued. "And... those bad guys got me. Got me good, fucked up my brain and made me kill for them. Took away my idea of who I was. And I got it back, began to understand, began to... to cope. To look in the mirror, and see myself again..." His voice shook and he closed his eyes. "One of them tracked us down to Wakanda. And shot me. And I thought... If I had to die, that... but it wasn't death. I found myself here. And I thought..." Bucky's voice almost trailed to nothing, before he looked up into Hank's eyes. "That machine. With the helmet. It looked like what they used to mess with me. And I had to destroy it."

"I understand," Hank said softly, thinking of times he'd seen Erik lash out, times when even Charles had flinched during discussions. He loved science, knew it could be used for good, but knew too many people he had cared about had seen it used for bad. 

Bucky nodded slowly. "That's all I can tell you. Didn't see the gun really. Just knew he was coming to fight, and we got ready to meet him, because Wakanda... Wakanda was the only home I'd had for a long time, and they didn't deserve to suffer because of the kind of bullshit that followed me."

Hank nodded. "I can show you what I've found out so far. It's not much. But it's a start to getting you home."

"Thanks." Bucky held out his hand to shake Hank's. "I wanna see it."

"This way," Hank answered, standing up. "We're going to my lab, is that alright?"

"I'll cope." Bucky smirked. "Long as I've got a cute guy keeping me company."

"Don't know where we can find you a cute guy."

"A nerdy guy will do then." Bucky answered, and Hank was sure this time that even with his fur, his blush would be clear.

He led him through to the lab. "Take a seat. I'll talk you through the energy readings that marked your arrival if you'd like? Maybe that'll help. You're sure you didn't see the gun?"

"I'm sure." Bucky answered, sitting down and spinning a little on his chair, moving from side to side. "You get why I've got to get back, right?"

"It's your home," Hank said thoughtfully after a moment. "It's your home, and you've got to keep your friend out of trouble."

"That one's a losing battle. But yeah. I've got to try. He deserves that at least..." Bucky reached out to take some of the papers, flicking through them. "This means nothing to me. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Hank reassured him. "We'll find a way of doing it." 

Bucky nodded, letting Hank talk at him about the readings his arrival had caused, the information that Hank had pieced together so far, and things that he was still uncertain on. "It looks like some kind of thinning between the worlds happened, caused by that gun. If I could take a blood sample... or actually, just take some of the clothes you arrived in..."

"What are my clothes going to tell you?" Bucky asked, curious. 

"It should give me an idea of... if your universe is close to ours." Hank frowned, trying to condense the information in his mind into something he could easily explain. "I can check that the material is similar to what it would be here, and that... might give me a lead."

Bucky gazed at him curiously. "You're just clutching at straws, aren't you?"

"I'm looking for somewhere to start. Think of it like a needle in a haystack. I just have to find a magnet, and then the rest will fall into place."

"Huh." Bucky laughed. "I always thought the solution was to burn the haystack down and then sift through the remains."

"Let's go for the less destructive option for now?" Hank paused. "I'm sorry you're trapped in the basement, but it's not safe for you to be up in the main school - it isn't that I don't trust you, it's just-"

"No, I get it." Bucky shrugged. "I'm a problem, and your priority is keeping the kids safe. Hell, your priority needs to be keeping the kids safe. Then getting me back, that's... that's just a bonus." He swallowed, his eyes drawn to a needle that Hank had left resting on a shelf. "What are those for?"

"Oh, that's for my meds." Hank answered, giving a careful smile, despite his own awkwardness. "They make it a bit easier to go out in public. Or do fine detail work, because these fingers are a bit big..."

Bucky gave him a sympathetic look. "People stare, huh?"

"Sometimes," Hank admitted.

"I get... I mean, it's not the same. But I know what it's like to have people look at you..." Bucky answered. "I think you look fine as you are, but if you want to take them, don't let me stop you..."

Hank considered for a moment. Normally he would have lept at the offer, wanting to hide his unnatural appearance. But something about Bucky made it feel less frightening. He didn't feel that he had to hide. "I'll see how it goes. I'm not...ashamed. But like I said, smaller fingers are better for some things."

Bucky nodded, and lapsed into silence, swinging his feet slightly on the chair, his one arm wrapped around his chest in an attempt to soothe himself. Hank wanted to tell him it would all be alright, but he didn't want to lie, and so he lapsed into silence. After a while, he opened his eyes again. "When you went through, what did you see... did it fade to darkness, or..."

"There was a light." Bucky answered. "It was a brilliant light, almost purple. And then after a moment it faded, and I was here."

Hank jotted that down, his mind full of possibilities. It was easy to fall into conversation with Bucky, to listen to him talk as he occassionally jotted down notes.

"You're sure I won't be sending you back to HYDRA?" Hank asked, frowning as he listened. "I mean, if they'd traced you..."

"You might be." Bucky admitted. "But I don't... I don't want to stay away. And if they are there, if they have Steve... I'm the best chance he's got, and that means I have to go."

"You're very brave." Hank whispered, and Bucky shook his head. 

"Just doing what's right."

That wasn't enough of an answer to Hank. He couldn't stand the idea of handing Bucky over, sending him back into his own personal hell with no way out. If he managed to open the portal for a split second, and send Bucky back, there would be no way of knowing if he'd made it. Hank knew that lack of knowledge would haunt him every day for the rest of his life. He wouldn't risk sending Erik back into the camps. He couldn't risk sending Bucky back and not knowing.

"Thank you. That's enough for now, if you could just fetch something you were wearing, I'll see what I can work out..." Hank muttered. "Then Alex can give you a tour of the danger room or something."

"You have something called a danger room?" Bucky chuckled to himself. "Because that doesn't seem like somewhere I want to go." 

"It's okay. He'll make sure you're safe."

"Fine. So like. Your friend was a telepath, and you're blue, what does this Alex do?"

"Cause trouble, mostly." Hank grinned. "I'll come find you in a bit, I just want to poke at a few ideas, see what falls out."

"Does that ever work?" Bucky asked.

"More often than you'd expect," Hank shrugged. "I know of a couple of mutants who can create portals. Maybe one of them..." He trailed off, lost in his own thoughts as he tried to plan what to do, how to best make sure that Bucky was safe. Home in his own time, with his own friends... Even as he worked on his plans, Hank knew he would miss him. There was just something about Bucky - his bluntness, yes, but also a sense of right and just... good humour. He was going to miss him a lot.

He focused on his work, making notes obsessively, adding what he had learned about the portal to what he already knew. The fact that there didn't seem to be mutants where Bucky was from complicated things a little - whatever had happened wasn't the work of a mutant. In a way that was helpful to know, but in another it raised far more questions - If Bucky's world had science beyond what he knew, or something more - aliens perhaps. Which was ridiculous, but so was what else Bucky had said.

He was still scribbling notes when Bucky knocked on the door to the lab, and walked in carrying a tray of food. "Alex said you needed to eat."

"Thanks," he muttered, a little embarrassed - he should have been looking after Bucky, not the other way around. Bucky settled down beside him.

"Any luck?"

"The start of it." Hank answered between bites of his food.

"I'm going to miss you," Bucky said thoughtfully, reaching out to rest his hand on Hank's. 

"You'll be back home." Hank reminded him, looking at him curiously. "Won't that be enough?"

"I suppose it'll have to be." Bucky grinned. "Not that I don't want to stay, but I can't leave my friends..." The grin grew more flirtatious. "Still, no point in hurrying to return me, until you're sure it's the right place."

Hank was certain he was blushing purple. He cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing down and then looking up again. "Are you... flirting?"

"Trying to, wasn't sure you'd noticed." Bucky grinned. "You're smart on most stuff, but not this by the looks of it."

"Just wasn't expecting it. I would have thought flirting...and with a scientist... would be the last thing on your mind."

"It's not like you're trying to do science on me. You didn't, even when I offered. And I've...been recovering for a while. You're cute, you don't know who I am, and you're fun to flirt with."

Hank wasn't quite sure if he should be flattered or offended at that.

Bucky shrugged, reaching out to squeeze Hank's hand with his own. "I mean it though. You're smart, that's obvious, but you're scared of yourself. I get..." he hesitated, took a deep breath, then continued. "I know what that's like. To wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, and not know if you'll see yourself looking back. So I try and make the best of it, because that's the only option I've got. But it's tough..." He lapsed into silence, wrapping his arm around himself, and then speaking quietly. 

"I look at you, and I know you're clever, but you're not a scientist to me. Not like the ones I know. You don't... you don't want to make weapons, or hurt anyone. I am sure you've made mistakes, but... I don't... I think making mistakes is forgivable in a way that intentionally hurting someone isn't. And back home, I know some smart people. Good people. And I'd trust them to get me home. I'm showing you that same trust."

Hank nodded, staring down at the plate of food and hoping that this wasn't all a mistake. He looked up at Bucky after a moment, seeing the sincerity in his gaze. "I'll do what I can to get you home."

"Thank you." Bucky leaned in, brushing his lips against Hank's cheek. "You don't need to look so afraid. I won't eat you."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Hank objected. "I just don't want... I don't want to hurt you, you know? I don't want to mess this up and send you back, and... I get why you want to go back. But I need to stay here."

"Then stay here." Bucky grinned. "I get it. This is your home. Still..." He gestured around. "You could always make the portal a door."

"What do you mean?"

"You're scared about putting me back in the wrong place or the wrong time, right? And trust me, I'm scared of that as well. But... If I can go back in and out of it, we don't need to be afraid of that. If I end up in the wrong place, I just go back again. Simple, huh?"

Hank stared at him, lost in thought. There was a definite logic to Bucky's argument, a potential solution to the problem of getting him home, and the thought that he might miss him when he was gone. He was just cautious in case he hadn't understood or he messed it up.

"It's gotta be worth a try, right?" Bucky asked, a smile lingering on his face. "See what you can do. And hell, Steve would love to meet you."

He knew that this was a bad idea, that he was just asking for trouble and that he would potentially cause more problems. And yet the idea was tempting. "I'll see what I can do."

Opening a breach between worlds sounded like a terrible idea. If Bucky ended up in the wrong place. But then, not opening up a permanent link could work out very poorly for Bucky. And he didn't want to abandon him. And if there was a problem, and something did break through the barrier - the mansion was well protected and ready to face any threats that came through.

He started to sketch an idea, as something fell into place - he already had all the readings. What he needed was a way to replicate them. A gun was imprecise. A moment that could misfire. But Bucky had already hit upon the solution himself.

Make the portal a door.

He stared at the paper, scribbling down notes, his mind racing with excitement. He glanced up and found Bucky gazing down at him, a knowing smile on his face.

"You know what you're doing, huh?"

"I think so."

Hank got to work. Creating the frame itself was the easy bit. He could use some of the monitoring equipment he'd set up to check he was creating the signals. He set about constructing it, picturing what he wanted the end result to be. It always came easier at times like this - seeing what he wanted, clear as day, and then creating it. He was never more at peace than at moments like this. He knew it didn't always work out - he couldn't go near a mirror without being reminded of that. But it did normally.

This felt like something that would work. He was acting with knowledge and confidence, making something that made sense. 

Eventually, it was done. He left it turned off and headed to his bedroom, knowing he needed the rest.

Bucky woke him up with coffee. "I saw the big door you've made. You were busy."

"I think it works. It gives out the same energy reading... you'll have to head through, and see..."

Bucky nodded, stretching, and Hank's eye was drawn to the fact he was wearing his prosthetic. "Not armless today?"

"Need to be ready to face whatever is the other side of that door." Bucky answered, walking over. "Do I get a goodbye kiss?"

Hank rolled his eyes slightly, but nodded, making his way over to him and kissing him on the cheek. "Be careful."

"Always am. You gonna power it up?"

Hank headed through, switching it on. The portal began to glow with a purpleish light.

"Looks right. I'll stick my head through." Bucky suggested, wandering over to it, his body lit up by the glow. He paused, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, and Hank cleared his throat.

"Just look through. If it's not right, come back and I can cut the power."

Bucky nodded, screwing both hands into fists before leaning in. After a moment he jerked back.

"Was it...?" Hank asked.

"I wish I could say there were dinosaurs or something. But no. That looks right." He hesitated. "You can't leave a portal unattended and open I'm guessing?"

"No." Hank agreed. "But I can turn it on when I'm here, sometimes. If you can come back, or pass a note, I'll see it. And if not... I'm glad I can get you home."

Bucky crossed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Hank's shoulders and kissing him deeply, leaving Hank breathless. He pulled back with a smirk. "I'll see you around."

With that, he turned and walked through the portal, disappearing from view.

***

Hank sat beside the portal for hours, but there was no return of Bucky, no sign of him. Eventually, he turned off the power and went to bed, informing Charles it had been a success. The next day he devoted to catching up on work he had missed, and checking on all of his students.

The day after, he powered on the portal while he was doing some work.

A week passed, then a month. When he was in the lab, he'd power on the portal, but nothing ever came through. He worried. He lay awake at night, wondering if Bucky had made it. If he'd got home.

Six weeks from Bucky first stepping through the portal, Hank looked up from his notes to see Bucky striding through, a broad smile on his face. He looked healthier. He walked straight to Hank, wrapping his arms around him. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too." Hank agreed. "How are you?"

"Good. Better for seeing you." Bucky grinned. "I thought you might want to visit... it's been good, but... well, I want to show you my world. And introduce you to my friends, if that's alright?"

Hank nodded. _Charles, Bucky came back. I want to go and see his world._

_Be careful. I'll keep the school running, we'll wait for your return. I'll make sure someone guards the door._ Charles sounded happy. Like he'd expected this to happen. Hank felt a certainty settle in him. 

"I want to go."

"Come on then. I'll go first, Steve was a bit jumpy about me going through a weird open portal."

"Smart man." Hank smiled shyly.

Bucky walked over, stepping through the portal, and Hank approached, his heart racing. He knew that this was Bucky's world, but that final step felt frightening. Then Bucky reached back through the portal, offering Hank his metal hand. Hank took a deep breath, and reached out to grab it, stepping through into the unknown.

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you! please do comment. This art is just beautiful!


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